Pharos the Egyptian | Page 2

Guy Newell Booth
speak the same, quite, as an Englishman might do.'
"I considered for a moment. I knew of no person named Silver who could have any possible reason for desiring to see me at seven o'clock in the evening.
"'Go down and inquire his business,' I said, at length. 'Tell him I am engaged to-night; but if he can make it convenient to call in the morning, I will see him.'
"The man departed on his errand, and by the time he returned I had reached my dressing-room once more.
"'He is very sorry, sir,' he began, as soon as he had closed the door, 'but he says he must get back to Bampton in time to catch the 8.15 express to London. He wouldn't tell me his business, but asked me to say that it is most important, and he would be deeply grateful if you could grant him an interview this evening.'
"'In that case,' I said, 'I suppose I must see him. Did he tell you no more?'
"'No, sir. Leastways, that wasn't exactly the way he put it. He said, sir, "If the gentleman won't see me otherwise, tell him I come to him from Mr. Cyril Forrester. Then I think he will change his mind."'
"As the man, whoever he was, had predicted, this did make me change my mind. I immediately bade Jenkins return and inform him that I would be with him in a few moments. Accordingly, as soon as I had dressed, I left my room and descended to the study. The fire was burning brightly, and a reading-lamp stood upon the writing-table. The remainder of the room, however, was in shadow, but not sufficiently so to prevent my distinguishing a dark figure seated between the two bookcases. He rose as I entered, and bowed before me with a servility that, thank God! is scarcely English. When he spoke, though what he said was grammatically correct, his accent revealed the fact that he was not a native of our Isles.
"'Sir William Betford, I believe,' he began, as I entered the room.
"'That is my name,' I answered, at the same time turning up the lamp and lighting the candles upon the mantelpiece in order that I might see him better. 'My man tells me you desire an interview with me. He also mentioned that you have come from my old friend, Mr. Cyril Forrester, the artist, who is now abroad. Is this true?'
"'Quite true,' he replied. 'I do come from Mr. Forrester.'
"The candles were burning brightly by this time, and, as a result, I was able to see him more distinctly. He was of medium height, very thin, and wore a long overcoat of some dark material. His face was distinctly Asiatic in type, though the exact nationality I could not determine. Possibly he might have hailed from Siam.
"'Having come from Mr. Forrester,' I said, when I had seated myself, 'you will be able to tell me his address. I am one of his oldest, and certainly one of his firmest, friends.'
"'Nevertheless, I was instructed on no account to reveal his present residence to you,' the man replied.
"'What, then, can your business be with me?' I asked, more nettled at his words than I cared to show.
"'I have brought you a packet,' he said, 'which Mr. Forrester was most anxious I should personally deliver to your hands. There is a letter inside which he said would explain everything. I was also instructed to obtain from you a receipt, which I am to convey to him again.'
"So saying, he dived his hand into the pocket of his greatcoat, and brought thence a roll, which he placed with some solemnity upon the table.
"'There is the packet,' he said. 'Now, if you will be kind enough to give me a note stating that you have received it, I will take my departure. It is most necessary that I should catch the express to London, and if I desire to do so, I have a sharp walk in front of me.'
"'You shall have the receipt,' I answered; and, taking a sheet of note-paper from a drawer, I wrote the following letter :--
"THE GRANGE, BAMPTON St. MARY,
December 14, 18--.
"'DEAR FORRESTER,--This evening I have been surprised by a visit from a man named--'
"Here I paused and inquired the messenger's name, which I had, for the moment, forgotten.
"'Honor De Silva,' he replied.
"'--from a man named Honor De Silva, who has handed me a packet for which he desires this letter shall be a receipt. I have endeavoured to elicit your address from him, but on this point he is adamant. Is it kind to an old friend to let him hear from you, but at the same time to refuse to permit him to communicate with you? Why all this mystery? If you are in trouble, who would
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